


The Land of Shadow

by LeastExpected_Archivist



Series: Remembrance [1]
Category: The Lord of the Rings - All Media Types
Genre: Angst, Hurt No Comfort, M/M, Rape, Torture
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2002-02-04
Updated: 2002-02-04
Packaged: 2021-03-06 18:08:42
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Rape/Non-Con
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,888
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/26443204
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/LeastExpected_Archivist/pseuds/LeastExpected_Archivist
Summary: by UluithielThe Field of Cormallen cannot erase the Tower of Cirith Ungol
Relationships: Frodo Baggins/Sam Gamgee
Series: Remembrance [1]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/1922128
Kudos: 6
Collections: Least Expected





	The Land of Shadow

**Author's Note:**

> Note from Amy Fortuna, the archivist: this story was originally archived at [Least Expected](http://fanlore.org/wiki/Least_Expected), which has been offline since 2002. To preserve the archive, I began manually importing its works to the AO3 as an Open Doors-approved project in August 2017. I e-mailed all creators about the move and posted announcements, but may not have reached everyone. If you are (or know) this creator, please contact me using the e-mail address on the [Least Expected collection profile](https://archiveofourown.org/collections/leastexpected/profile).
> 
> Disclaimer: characters and premise not mine; writing mine  
> Story Notes: Frodo is helping me so much! In telling his story I find the truth

> . . .their hearts, wounded with sweet words, overflowed, and their joy was like swords,  
> and they passed in thought out to regions where pain and delight flow together  
> and tears are the very wine of blessedness. _The Return of the King_ p 232

April 8, 1419 (in the Shire reckoning)  
the Field of Cormallen

Sam entered the bedchamber after Frodo and closed the door. Leaning against it, he sighed. "Whew! What a day! I'm blessed if I don't think it's as wearying to celebrate as it was to do the job."

"I don't know if I'd go that far, but I couldn't have stood much more celebration myself", said Frodo, but his face was relaxed, even happy.

Sam pulled him close. "I still have a hard time believing it's over, and you're safe," he murmured. "Seems like I was ready to die, and I thought I had, and then suddenly there's Gandalf, all in white! And then the celebration, and seeing all the others, and . . . well, I can't seem to take it all in somehow."

Frodo curved his arms around Sam's back, feeling the unnatural knobs of spine and ridges of rib, but glorying in him nevertheless. He had certainly never expected to survive his Quest, and today's celebration had been unreal and dreamlike. But now Sam was in his arms, and he felt a measure of peace entering his heart as he drew a deep breath of the fragrant Ithilien air. He nuzzled Sam's neck, huffed warm breath in his ear, and trailed tiny kisses across his face to the corner of his mouth.

"Ain't you tired?" whispered Sam.

"Not _that_ tired," said Frodo, pulling him toward the bed and sliding the braces from his shoulders. "Not so tired that I can't enjoy _you_." But his next kiss was split by a yawn, and Sam chuckled.

"I think we'd best get to bed and to _sleep_ , begging your pardon, sir," he said, amused. He led the stumbling Frodo to the huge bed, gently removed his clothes, and laid himself and Frodo down in the sheets smelling of sunlight.

"Mmph," sighed Frodo, snuggling into Sam's shoulder -- thin, too thin, but still sturdy. Sam looked down and saw a silver circlet still nestled amongst the tangle of dark curls. Gently he removed it then, remembering, took the matching circlet from his own sandy hair. The circlets rang with a chiming tone as he laid them gently on the table next to the bed.

* * *

The piercing shriek ripped Sam from slumber, and he lunged from the bed. Frodo was pressed against the wall, wild with terror. With another keening wail, he skittered across the room, frantic gaze darting everywhere. His pale flesh gleamed in the moonlight through the window, and his eyes glittered dangerously.

Sam was rooted to the spot in horror. He barely registered the door being flung open and Aragorn hurtling through it, Anduril flaming in his hand. Just behind him was Gandalf. Taking in the situation at a glance, the wizard closed the door and advanced slowly into the room. All three stood frozen, staring aghast at the wraith-like figure of Frodo, whose lips were drawn back in a rictus of terror and fury.

"Sam," said the wizard. "Move toward him, very slowly."

Sam took a step forward, then another. Frodo's eyes darted about the room in panic, but when they rested on Sam, recognition flared. Just behind it, however, was rage.

"Get back! Get back!" Frodo hissed, his voice low and savage. "You left me to them! You took It and left me to the Orcs, and now you can just stay away from me!"

Sam stopped short. His heart shattered, and he could neither speak nor move. Frodo's eyes blazed as they moved to Aragorn. With a feral snarl he leapt at the armed Man. Anduril rang on the stone floor as Aragorn caught the Ringbearer up in his arms, cradling him to his breast. Frodo fought and kicked, shrieking. With a berserk wrench he broke Aragorn's grasp and tumbled to the floor.

His eyes changed again, and he looked up at the tall Man pitiably. "If I do it, will you stop?" he whimpered, and he drew apart Aragorn's dressing gown to run his lips up the Ranger's thigh. Aragorn gave a mighty shudder, but his hands were very gentle on the Ringbearer's shoulders. "Tolo dan na ngalad!" he commanded in a clear ringing voice. "Come back, Frodo Baggins. Return to the Light!"

Frodo froze, and slowly drew his head back to look up into the face of the King. Sanity returned to his eyes, then revulsion as he took in his posture. With a sob he tore himself from under Aragorn's hands and stumbled into the corner, retching and weeping. There he curled himself into a ball and trembled.

"Sam," said Gandalf, his voice tight with pain, "can you. . .?"

But Sam was already moving. He skidded to a stop beside Frodo, gathering him in his arms, pressing his warm brown skin to Frodo's pale cold flesh. His lips were in Frodo's hair, murmuring endearments as his tears flowed. Frodo's sobs wracked his frail body. "Forgive me, Sam! Oh, forgive me! How could I, oh Sam, what have I said? What have I done?"

Sam stopped the keening with his own mouth, and gradually, slowly, Frodo's lips stilled, warmed, softened against his. At length the tense body collapsed into Sam's lap.

Sam looked up, seeing Aragorn and Gandalf through the crystal wall of his tears. Aragorn strode forward and covered them with a woolen coverlet. Wrapping it warmly around both exhausted hobbits, he picked them up together in his strong arms and laid them gently on the bed. Gandalf pulled a chair alongside the bed and took out his pipe. "Go to sleep," he murmured, smiling faintly at Sam. "I will keep the watch for you."

Frodo's swollen lids fluttered closed, and his breath gradually slowed into the steady rhythm of sleep. Sam's eyes looked imploringly up into Gandalf's. "I shall stay here," soothed the wizard. "Sleep, Samwise. You have done all you can for him today."

When both hobbits were breathing evenly, Aragorn turned to go. His eye caught a gleam. Lying on the floor were two delicate circlets of silver.

* * *

The next morning Aragorn summoned the hobbits and, with Gandalf, led them into the woods of Ithilien. They walked up the stream until they could see the falls that concealed Henneth Annun. Frodo shuddered, thinking he saw the spot where Gollum had fished. He sighed deeply and tried to shake off his misery.

Gandalf spread a velvet cloak on the ground and they all sat under the trees. After a long silence Frodo spoke abruptly, his voice ragged with strain.

"I suppose you want to know what they did to me?"

"I think we already know what they did to you, Frodo," said Gandalf very gently. "What I want you to do is talk to us about it. Mayhaps if you can bring the story out in words it will cease haunting your dreams."

Frodo looked long at the wizard: his father, his guide. At length he gave an infinitesimal nod and fixed his eyes on a tiny flower at his feet.

Taking a deep breath, he began to speak, haltingly at first, then tumbling out in frantic words. He told of waking in the tower room atop Cirith Ungol, naked, surrounded by Orcs. He spoke of their looting him, and searching his body roughly with horrid crawling fingers. He told of their reeking breath and the hideous sound of the Black Speech in their foul mouths. He repeated the threats they had made, the taunting descriptions of the tortures Sauron was planning for him. And he told of being ravaged by them, his flesh tearing, his mind rent asunder. Words of horror and loathing were torn from his lips as he spoke of the procession of Orcs invading him, plundering his very soul until, mercifully, he lost consciousness.

"The next thing I remember is hearing a song," he said faintly. "I thought I was dying, and hearing the voices from the Blessed Realm. I tried to answer them, but an Orc appeared and lashed me with his whip. Then, suddenly, the Orc turned into Sam!"

Frodo raised his eyes for the first time, looking at Sam through the tears coursing down his cheeks. "Can you ever forgive me, Sam? I don't know how I could have accused you so. I didn't mean it, I didn't!"

"Well, sir, I'm not so sure about that," replied Sam slowly. "I reckon you're not far wrong in what you said. It don't matter that I was mortal certain you were dead, and that I took the Ring that the Quest not fail, and made a vow to return and die beside you. The fact of the matter is, I took It, and I left you to the Orcs." Sam's lips trembled, but his voice was steady. "Can you forgive _me_ , Mr. Frodo?"

"Oh, Sam!" wailed Frodo, and he launched himself at his beloved companion. They went down together in a flurry of Elven-cloaks, and no coherent words emerged from the sobs for some moments.

Gandalf's eyes filled, watching them. He had made no mistake in choosing the Ringbearer's companion. Sam's sturdy hobbit-sense, his unflinching honesty, and his unquenchable love were the balm Frodo needed.

But Frodo was not yet finished with his searing confession. He extricated himself from Sam's arms, and stood to face them all.

"I am ashamed," he whispered. Sam made to protest, but Gandalf stilled him with a hand on his arm. "I am befouled, filthy, unspeakably vile. The Orc-flesh has become my flesh, and I can never be clean.

"And you do not yet know the worst. When you came for me, Sam, and rescued me, do you know what gave me the most comfort?" Frodo's eyes were dry now, stark and grim. None of the others spoke. "The Ring," said Frodo, and he laughed, a harsh bitter bark. "When I saw that you had saved the Ring, I could have pushed you into the Crack of Doom to get it back." His voice sank to a whisper. "And now It is in the Crack of Doom, and all inside me is dark and empty. All that yet lives within me is the shame."

Gandalf did not speak for some time. When he finally broke the silence, his voice was low and steady. "There can be healing with this, Frodo. But these wounds are deeper than those your flesh has endured, and," the wizard's eyes were very sad, "these wounds will never fully heal. You will carry some of the darkness within you forever."

Frodo's lips trembled. "As I lay on the floor of the tower room, with the Orcs grunting and squealing over me, I prayed for Elbereth to let me die. How I wanted to die! But it is my doom to live," he said, with a queer little laugh. "It seems that ever the harder task is my lot."

the end

> _A cold wind blows right through me and I'm made a hollow shell There's nothing left, just ash remains_   
>  _enrich the soil . . . no soul . . . no soul Close call, there in the shadows_
> 
> Sarah McLachlan Out of the Shadows


End file.
